Embracing What Is

Resistance is the root of so much of our suffering. I know this not just as a concept, but as something I feel in my own body right now. And I know I am not alone.

One place I notice it is around aging…

For many of us, aging arrives subtly—an ache in the joints, a stubborn jar lid, a new spot on the skin we didn’t ask for. I don’t know many adults who celebrate getting older the way we did as kids, eagerly waiting to grow tall enough to ride the roller coaster. Now, instead of excitement, there's resistance—a quiet pushback against what is natural and inevitable.

And resistance isn’t just personal. It’s collective. The other day, I caught myself taking a side in a charged conversation. As much as I value neutrality and understanding, I wasn’t embodying it in that moment. I felt justified… until I paused, slowed down, and saw it: I wasn’t truly open to the other perspective. I had fallen into the classic “good guy/bad guy” trap that my yoga teacher recently spoke about.

Here’s the thing: no matter which side we’re on, we suffer when we want things to be different from what they are, in other words, from reality. That’s the tension. We are wired to judge—our brains constantly sorting, evaluating, reacting. But we’re not wired to be neutral… unless we choose to be.

We always have that choice.

Yes, the world feels fractured. Emotions are high. So many are operating from below the line—in fear, in anger, in blame. And from that place, we lose access to possibility. Solutions remain out of reach.

But it doesn’t have to stay that way.

We can soften. We can respond instead of react (another MM coming out on this soon!) We can let go—not out of resignation, but out of a conscious decision to accept reality with compassion and move forward from there.

Here’s what I’m practicing:

I’m choosing to embrace my aging, because it means I’ve lived. I’ve loved. I’ve learned. My wrinkles tell stories, and my scars hold strength.

And in the face of societal resistance, I’m slowing down. I’m doing the real work of listening—deeply. I’m imagining what action might look like above the line. What if the next protest didn’t erupt in flames but unfolded in joined hands, in silence, in presence? The message could be just as strong—maybe even stronger—without the destruction yet still in action.

There is another way. Just ask Gandhi.

I’m not saying we don’t act. I’m saying we choose how we act—from which energy, from which intention. We can respond with vision, not vengeance.

So I leave you with this question, dear reader:

How do you drop resistance and stay in reality?

I'd love to hear. Truly.

With love,